


Pearled

by theskywasblue



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Behind the Scenes, Coda, Gen, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 01:58:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For <a href="http://rroselavy.dreamwidth.org/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://rroselavy.dreamwidth.org/"><b>rroselavy</b></a>'s prompt "Conviction"</p>
    </blockquote>





	Pearled

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://rroselavy.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**rroselavy**](http://rroselavy.dreamwidth.org/)'s prompt "Conviction"

The room – a dojo, by rights, where the young novices come to train their bodies to match their minds – smells of incense, of the sweat of young men, of strong tea and – very faintly – of fresh blood. Koumyou thinks the smell is in his nose, now, rooted deep in his sinuses, and will be for some time.

It has been three days since Goudai Sanzo died, and still yesterday, Koumyou saw a fleck of dried blood caught behind Ukoku’s ear. This is something, he fears, which neither of them will never properly escape.

“The rules are clear...”

“Actually,” Koumyou interjects, his voice calm, though he thinks something of his quietly frustrated grief sneaks through, “they are anything but. There is no precedent, here.”

They all look to him, this collection of high-ranking, highly spiritual men. They are waiting for him to speak words which will condemn the boy they still refer to, in hushed breaths, as Ken’yuu – or more often, simply _the murderer_.

“Then we are obligated to set it,” the oldest of the monks says, fixing Koumyou with an intense, rheumy gaze. “Ken’yuu is still without the proper ordination...”

“Yet the sutra has responded to him,” another argues, “and who among us could take that from him? Who is worthy?”

Koumyou fears for those who might be brave or foolish enough to try to separate Ukoku from what is now his. There’s a certain glittering psychosis in Ukoku’s eyes, desperate desire now channelled into a desperate possessiveness. Koumyou would no more come between a bear and her cub than he would Ukoku and that sutra.

“I’ll take him with me,” Koumyou says, without thinking logically of _where_ \- there doesn’t seem anywhere in the world as Koumyou knows it that is big enough to contain this man, Ukoku, who laid waste to so much. Perhaps he can find a place, if he looks hard enough. “He will leave with me, tomorrow.”

The assembled council does not look relieved – they look anxious, suspicious and angry, confused by Koumyou’s certainty. They don’t understand yet the difference between the promises men make to the living, and those they make to the dead. Ukoku requires something of him; Koumyou thinks that Goudai knew this, with the knowledge that men only possess in the last moments before their own death.

Koumyou hopes never to experience such clarity and conviction himself.

“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.”

The night is cold, and Koumyou’s breath mists the air as he crosses the temple grounds. Ukoku’s rooms are at the farthest end of the grounds; not an imprisonment so much as an isolation. Ukoku wouldn’t have it for himself – he would no doubt enjoy the wary eyes and whispers of his fellows – but for the sake of peace, Koumyou has kept him away.

Ukoku has proven remarkably receptive to Koumyou’s whims, of late. There’s no doubt in Koumyou’s mind that it will never last, so best to take advantage while he can.

Ukoku is sitting in the dark, beneath the emaciated shadow of a leafless tree. “So,” he asks, with a tint of self-effacing laughter in his voice, “have they found me guilty yet?”

“No,” Koumyou leans against the tree and hunts for his tobacco.

“That’s a shame. They should.”

“You’re welcome to tell them so.” Ukoku makes a harsh, impatient sound, and so Koumyou deflects. “We’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

“Together?” Something in Ukoku’s voice is almost childish with joy; and at the same time, underneath is a current of danger.

“Unless you would rather go with someone else.” Out in the world, Koumyou thinks, he may be able to wheedle out the truth of Ukoku, find the core of goodness, the careful, white pearl in the midst of all that blackness and draw it out.

He _will_ find it. He must.

-End-


End file.
